So I was eager to try Cunningham's book, though I don't read "literary fiction" very often. Hey, I read comics and write Star Trek fan fic - what do you expect?

I'm intensely jealous. Cunningham writes like I think I could ... if I was infinitely more talented. As someone prone to sub-clauses, I loved the vast elliptical prose, with asides that veer from, then threaten to take over, the sentences from which they sprung. It's an extravagant style that could easily cross over into self-indulgence, but never, entirely, turns florid because the craftsmanship is so confident, the turns of phrase original and insightful, and most every sentence charged with observation.

Cunningham's elegant, circuitous sentences place you simultaneously deep within the subjective life of the characters (and not just because of the present tense ... a form that can be often prove distancing in any case) and also objectively outside them - perhaps because of the perspicacity of his descriptions Nobody really is so acutely observational in real life, right? Unless someone is as skilled a writer as Cunningham perhaps. Bastard.

I see he's written another triptych novel, part of which is a science fiction story. It'll be interesting to see how well that story works as SF instead of just fiction. Few mainstream authors make the genre leap successfully, Margaret Atwood's The Handmaid's Tale perhaps being the best, best known, example.

It's fascinating comparing David Hare's screenplay with the book. It's remarkably faithful in every aspect, perhaps the truest book-to-movie adaptation since Marcel Pagnol's The Water of the Hills. The tone isn't quite as lilting as the book, some revelations are moved around, but the emotion is actually heightened. Hare makes lines more overt, dramatises, theatricalises, giving for instance Virginia Woolf a soaring aria which won Nicole Kidman an Oscar but that almost certainly wouldn't have worked as novel dialogue. One of the interesting consequences of the coda in the screenplay (which nicely bookends the opening of both the book and the movie) is that Woolf becomes the most important of the three women, whereas in the book it's Clarissa who dominates.

Anyway, Supergirl: Power (written by Jeph Loeb, art by Ian Churchill) is a reprint of the first few issues of the fourth (?) time Supergirl has had her own title, this time spinning off from the successful Superman/Batman, also penned by Loeb.

Loeb in this arc (his first and final before departing the series) mixes in many a superhero staple: guest stars galore (Superman, Batman, Wonder Woman, the Outsiders, the Justice Society, the Teen Titans, the Justice League), the inevitable fight between the main character and the guest stars (Supergirl vs Superman, Batman, Wonder Woman, the Outsiders, the Justice Society, Teen Titans, the Justice League), clashes with the bad guys of course (Harley Quinn, Poison Ivy, Clayface, Lex Luthor) and the evil twin.

Loeb's run on Superman/Batman was filled with high concepts, balanced against the symmetric parallel narration of its two stars, and was mostly readable because of this mix of whambang and introspection. But Supergirl: Power just didn't do it for me - the concepts weren't high, just cliched. Churchill's art is decent enough, but I can't help but think politically correct thoughts and judging Kara as way, way too thin (and, let's put it this way: I think Callista Flockhart is hot) and her costume, featuring bare mid-riff and a skirt little more than a g-string, the very definition of jailbait. And the visual contrast between fellow-Superman-cousin Power Girl and the titular Supergirl ("titular" "tit" "boob" get it? get it? <krustysigh/>) is so extreme as to be ludicrous. But then, most female comic book characters are super-naturally endowed, so I guess there's nothing new on that front ("front", get it? "front"? "front"? <krustysigh/>).

Maybe if I was still a teenager ... Helen Slater. *sigh*

I liked the way that the layers of secrets and manipulation were peeled back to uncover the (likely) truth behind Bulldog's escape and reappearance. However, the final explanation - that it was all a plot by the Cylons to kill Adama - rang totally false. If this was the Cylon plan it was much too elaborate. Why let a man escape and then gamble on him finding Adama in the first place (when they themselves have had problems tracking the fleet down, or do they now know where it is?) and then gamble again on him getting pissed off at Adama so badly that he would kill him? Why not just have ten base stars waiting nearby and then blast the hell out of everyone once they found the Galactica? Or are they deliberately leaving the fleet alone now? But if so, why the whole trick with Bulldog? Are they targeting Adama specifically? The whole thing just didn't hang together. But then, I've never gotten a handle on the Cylons' motivation, their plan and their philosophical/religious musings.

Other than that:

• Carl Lumbly has presence, even when not saying a word. He gives a good performance. (I recognise from something ... maybe his LA Law stint, because I don't recall seeing him in any other show/film listed on his imdb entry.)
  
• Adama as the cause of the war struck me as one of unlikely coincidences that get added to the mythology of a show as time goes by.
  
• Is Roslin looking hotter this season? Has she changed her hair?
  
• I really like the way the Roslin/Adama relationship has evolved. It's certainly has grown a lot more complex and textured than the (fairly) simplistic hard-nosed military man vs inexperienced politician dynamic it started out as. From the easy truth of "Are you going to tell me what really happened?" (they know each other so well now) to the scene where she forces his penance on him, all good stuff.
  
• Is this only the second time Roslin's sworn? (Someone in fanland undoubtedly keeps count.) If so, again it makes sense that she would feel comfortable enough around Adama to relax her language.
  
• Nice that the "hero" of the title is actually Adama.
  
• Also nice that the episode was able to progress the Adama/Tigh relationship, though I didn't expect them to reconcile so quickly. I worry again that they will return to something resembling a status quo too quickly.
  
• Hmmm... Tigh didn't tell Adama what happened to Ellen but he was able to tell the star chamber in "Collaborators"? Not sure if that's in or out of character. Will have to mull it some more.
  
• Number Three seems to be getting her own arc. We saw the beginnings of this in the New Caprica arc, but her dream sequence and actions in "Hero" establish her firmly as one a character in her own right, not just a foil to Baltar or some other Human.
  
• On Baltar: I've never particularly liked him, but now I hate Baltar. Why do the bastards get all the hot women? Emphasis on "women", plural. Bastard.
  

I could detect only the faintest trace of Mal Reynolds in Nathan Fillion's performance this week. Which is weird, as this is the episode where Mal finally gets hitched (for real!) to YoSaffBridge, or rather YoMonSaffBridge, to append her latest moniker (heh, "moniker").

You'd think that Mal would have learned better than to be drugged again (!) by a hot woman with multiple identities.

Back on the island, the writers must be seeking chiropractic assistance, so far are they contorting themselves to get YoMonSaffBridge and Sawyer to get it on. Let's see:

• We're told Sawyer's going to be killed.
  
• YoMonSaffBridge can climb out of her cage at any time. (Sure, she's being watched, but she doesn't know that.)
  
• She does so and she has no problems breaking the lock on Sawyer's cage.
  
• So the obvious, life-preserving thing to do would be to, you know, start running.
  
• But Sawyer must have had a lobotomy while he was undergoing his operation, cause he's sure been acting stupid ever since "Every Man For Himself. (Guess all men under YoMonSaffBridge's spell do ...) "Oooh, we're on another island, we've got nowhere to go," he whines, playing the hurt/comfort card ... and whaddayaknow: it works.

As expected, "I Do" led to the physical consummation of the Sawyer/YoMonSaffBridge relationship, all under the watchful eye of the Others' security cameras. (Where was Henry/Ben after the sex started? In his bunk, obviously.)

Even though parts of the plotting were ludicrous, on a character-level the interplay between the flashback and the island stories worked: In the past, with Mal, YoMonSaffBridge had the freedom to move, so she left him. In the present, with Sawyer, she had nowhere to run to, so she was forced to confront her real feelings.

The episode didn't make a point of it, but in this respect YoMonSaffBridge is a lot like Sawyer, so I guess that pairing seems more inevitable than if she ended up with Jack. Not that I'm particularly interested in any of these three characters' romantic lives.

I would have respected this episode more if they had killed off Sawyer. True, his own personal story hadn't been resolved yet, but certainly his love life had reached a plateau of happiness. And it would have been stunning to have seen two main character buy it in subsequent episodes, more so even than Ana Lucia/Libby in season two, given that Sawyer is one of the original cast and, I assume, a fan favourite.

This is not to say I didn't enjoy "I Do". Fillion and Lilly gave good performances, had good chemistry (better than Lilly/Fox or Lilly/Holloway) and I felt for them. It's just the island stuff that didn't do it for me.

B and C plot comments:

• On TV things are always urgent. The tumour had to be operated on now or it would be too late for Henry/Ben in another week. Urgency ramps up the drama of course, but it can also get somewhat cliched.
  
• I thought at first that the Jack B-plot would be him wrestling with his Hippocratic Oath, but in retrospect that would have been cliched. It was right to toughen up his character and have him play hardball. His demand that he needed to "get the hell off this island" was made to sound particularly selfish. I doubt that his character will turn, like Michael did for instance. So far he's been cast too much in the traditional hero mould.
  
• Umm ... the Others can operate on Sawyer convincingly enough to fool him into thinking he's got a pacemaker, but they can't stitch up a simple, minor cut that Jack inflicted on the unconscious Henry/Ben?
  
• I didn't think the Bible quote attributed to John 3.05 sounded right, so I did a quick google. Remarkably, all but one of the first page of hit results on "john 3.05" are from this episode. And it's only been just over a week since the episode aired. Remarkably rabid the Lost fanbase, and remarkably efficient the google spiders. Some interesting speculation out there, check out the comment by Fred S at Lost Easter Eggs blog.
  

Yeah.

Last week I compared the Cylon disease to the Founder virus on Deep Space Nine. This week the issue is similar to that facing Picard in "I, Borg". (Something that I understand Ron Moore confirms in the podcast, though I don't listen to these until after I've written the episode review.) This being BSG and not TNG the choice is a lot more stark: eliminating a race, not just changing it.

The Doctor's speech and the Cylons' interrogation is as close as BSG's gotten to technobabble. It's only second or third time in the series I think that the pseudo-scientific terms threatened to overwhelm - even if only momentarily - the story. So the explanation for cure seemed a bit contrived, but it was obviously just a setup for the moral dilemma. I think the writers needed a cure for the virus to make the contrast between the options more dramatic, so that it's not just a choice between leaving someone to die and using them to commit genocide, but between actively curing them and exterminating them. And the cure will probably figure more actively down the line as well.

There were some nods to the WMD debate, but I think that was tangential to the debate over the issue of genocide itself, rather than the delivery mechanism. Of course that just reinforces what WMD are - in essence - there for.

The Cylon Simon gave up a lot of information very quickly. I guess the writers wanted to move the plot along (and why assume that all Cylons are equally zealous anyway?) but some on-screen pressure would have made for an interesting parallel with Baltar's own interrogation.

Roslin's decision to eliminate the Cylons was understandable (and of course another example of BSG being the anti-Trek that not even Firefly was) but her smile after making it - though not without self-awareness - was chilling. Damn she's come a long way.

It was predictable that Athena would be infected with the Cylon virus, and the teaser certainly waved that red herring like a bullfighter at a fish shop. But no, she's immune! There was a technobabble explanation for it, "but whatever" (to lift dialogue entirely apropos). That doesn't mean she's in the clear. The Sharon torture continues vicariously as she has to confront the central dilemma of the episode. Her decision to stick by her newly-pledged humanity makes sense though, character-wise. Helo's advocate for Cylon rights, for moral rectitude, is also in character, though the intensity of it - to the point where he sabotages a mission of supreme importance, authorised by the President and backed by the Admiral - is surprising for a military man. Guess the writers needed a strong viewpoint character to make the opposing argument.

It occurs to me that it might have been more dramatic if Sharon had not been immune, and - after Helo killed the prisoners - for Roslin and Adama to face killing her in order to make the plan work.

Incidentally, it didn't click until just now that this Sharon taking on the moniker "Athena" confirms (by way of an out-of-show signal, rather than within-the-show itself) the strength of her bond with Adama, given that the TOS Athena was Adama's daughter. I got Athena mixed up with Sheba in my mind last week.

Are they using a new CGI model for Galactica as well? Again, like the Cylon basestar, the surface detail looks different ... Or maybe I'm just paying more attention.

On the Cylon baseship I thought for a moment Baltar was going to lose his head, ala John Colicos in the original mini series (only to be brought back later of course). It would have made for a satisfying cut but no, it was to be just torture instead. But you call this torture? It seems typically Baltar that he could turn even torture into an excuse to mind-hump his Sixpot. I kid, but for some reason the torture/sex scene didn't quite land for me. Maybe the juxtaposition was just too extreme.

Or maybe the religious discussions that preceded and accompanied it didn't work as well as they should have. None of these do, really, for me - going back all the way to the miniseries. I think it's because all the discussion about what God does or doesn't want is so abstracted. If we had a personification of the Cylon god in the show (I picture Leonard Nimoy ever since a brilliant suggestion I once read) then the doctrinal debates would be a lot more concrete and personal.

And I gotta wonder: "The pain. The pain." A nod to Doctor Smith?

Mr Eko quickly became my favourite of the "new" characters introduced last season. Well, him and Libby - but that was mostly because Cynthia Watros is hot, and Libby intriguingly (now frustratingly) mysterious. Well, and Bernard too, but that's because I've been impressed by Sam Anderson ever since his memorable run as Holland Manners on Angel. But of all the characters it was Mr Eko who was the most interesting, not to downplay Adewale Akinnuoye-Agbaje's (thank God for cut & paste) fine performance.

So of course they killl him!

Shit. Certainly didn't expect that.

I mean, for a second, I suspected it. One must beware of character resolutions on Lost. Once an arc has been tied up in a bow then - on this show, where character-in-conflict is the defining principle - there's really no reason for someone to hang around. So near the end of the episode where Eko tells his brother "I have not sinned", but only did what he needed to to survive, it certainly felt like an ending, if not necessarily the happy one given to Ana Lucia last year. (Her flashback-ending was happy, a reconciliation with her mother; her island-ending not so much.)

But, no - there was a twist. The apparition he was talking to was not his brother at all (not even one conjurered out of Eko's mind). *whew* There's still conflict to be resolved.

But, no - there's another twist, and one that's ultimately logical. Regardless of who or what Eko was talking to (and, after all, his brother is dead, so any reconciliation would ultimately always be an internal one rather than with another person), we've had the definitive statement of who Eko is ... was. "You have sinned. Hunger does not matter" young Eko is told early in the episode, spelling out his central ethical conflict: Is need a sufficient justification for sin? Or, in more plain terms: "Are you a bad man?" And Eko answers. Only God knows for sure, but as far as he is concerned - he did his best with what was given to him.

I'll miss Eko, but it seems the writers are doing exactly what I wished them to do: Keep rotating cast members through the ensemble. Give us new, exciting characters. Tell their stories; then move on.

Other comments:

• Impossible figures from the past appearing on the island is a recurring device. These will probably eventually have some sort of "in-game" explanation (those that can't be attributed to simple hallucination or dream), but dramatically they underscore the links between the past and the present. We see how the character of the survivors are shaped in the past, and then see the consequences on the island. Having brothers, fathers, friends (even imaginary ones) etc appear theatricalises this central thematic structure.
  
• "The Cost of Living" features I think the first the show has flashed back to previous episodes within the narrative purely for the purposes of exposition. Usually the necessary exposition is provided in the "Previously on Lost..." pre-teaser segment and if we do get a footage we've seen before it's usually to make a narrative point. In retrospect, the recap of Eko's story further set up his death.
  
• There was an implausible cop-out in Eko's flashback: I don't see a reason why the bad guy shot the woman in the village rather than Eko himself. It's not like he was squeamish about killing someone, so why not murder the man likely to cause trouble? It thought perhaps it's because Eko was needed for the drug scam, at least in his capacity of priest, but that wasn't the case. The real reason was of course because Eko wasn't fated (scripted) to die at that point, and the moment rang false. This is a minor complaint however.
  

Meanwhile, at the camp of the Others...

• Conflicts are interesting when the power shifts from one party to another. By letting Henry/Ben know that he knows about the cancer Jack asserts strength.
  
• Henry coming clean with his plan to get Jack to operate on him was a good move (assuming it wasn't a plan within a plan). Sometimes short-circuiting the plot, cutting out unnecessary complications - even in a heavily serialised and convoluted show like Lost - is a good thing. Keeps things moving.
  
• "Do you believe in God?" The question makes sense in Eko's flashback, but on the island asked by one of the Others to the captive protagonist? For a second I thought I was watching Battlestar Galactica!
  
• The existence of the other monitoring stations sets up plenty of opportunities for future seasons. I'm willing to bet that they will only be able to get the link-ups working gradually ... as the needs of the arc dictate. The one-eyed-man for instance will undoubtedly provide hours (in viewing-time ... days of in-show-time ... weeks in real-time) of complications.
  
• The two new regulars (whose names are Paulo and Nikki according to wikipedia) get a bit more to do ... of course, I'll now think of Paulo as "toilet guy", which I'm not sure was the writers' intent.
  
• Juliet must have watched a Bob Dylan video in her childhood. Or maybe INXS.
  
• Juliet was actually very manipulative ... I like it, it adds a dangerous edge to her so-far mostly bland character.
  

In an ironic turn you wouldn't believe if it happened on TV, Pahrump has just confirmed every redneck, narrow-minded stereotype that Sorkin tried to repudiate only days ago in "Nevada Day".

The Pahrump Town Board voted to make it illegal to fly a foreign (read: Mexican) flag unless an American flag is flown above it, and has also legislated English as the official language of the town.

Typically, despicably, the ordinance was wrapped in false patriotism as the Pahrump Valley Times reports (italics mine):

"I make a motion, for all the servicemen and women that died for our country, that we pass PTO 54, the English Language and Patriot Reaffirmation Ordinance," Miraglia said.

The motivation for Mr Miraglia's motion? San Diego journalist Ruben Navarrette Jr writes:

Pahrump resident Michael Miraglia proposed the ban because, he said, he got upset when he saw immigrant activists marching through U.S. cities last spring, waving Mexican flags. Mr. Miraglia told USA Today that he was especially miffed that "we had Mexican restaurants closed that day." So that's what started all this -- the fact that some guy couldn't get his burrito fix.

And in Miraglia's own words, as reported by the Las Vegas Review-Journal:

Town Board member Michael Miraglia said he proposed the English Language and Patriot Reaffirmation ordinance after getting tired of encountering people who do not speak English. "When you are trying to get something done or trying to ask for some simple thing, they tell you they don't speak English," he said.

It gets worse:

The measure is unconstitutional and exclusionist, said Lee Rowland, staff attorney for the ACLU of Nevada.

The section of the proposal that says that any display of a foreign flag must be accompanied by a U.S. flag and that the U.S. flag must be above it or otherwise in a position of prominence is "radically inappropriate," Rowland said.

"Your favorite Italian deli can't put up the Italian flag on the roof to indicate they are an Italian deli," Rowland said. "That doesn't even bear discussion, it is so plainly unconstitutional. Flying a flag on your own property is clearly well within your freedom of expression."

So what happens when Rowland tries to defend the American Constitution at the town meeting?

Lee Rowland, a representative of the ACLU, was booed and shouted out by the audience almost immediately upon announcing her name and organization.

I don't understand the blind hate that some people have towards the ACLU. Yes, they've argued on behalf of some despicable people, but only to stand up for those liberties that the USA is supposed to stand for in best Voltarian fashion. A Sorkin quote just begs to be copied and pasted:

This is an organization whose sole purpose is to defend the Bill of Rights, so it naturally begs the question: Why would a senator, his party's most powerful spokesman and a candidate for President, choose to reject upholding the Constitution? If you can answer that question, folks, then you're smarter than I am, because I didn't understand it until a couple of minutes ago. America isn't easy. America is advanced citizenship. You gotta want it bad, 'cause it's gonna put up a fight. It's gonna say "You want free speech? Let's see you acknowledge a man whose words make your blood boil, who's standing center stage and advocating at the top of his lungs that which you would spend a lifetime opposing at the top of yours. You want to claim this land as the land of the free? Then the symbol of your country can't just be a flag; the symbol also has to be one of its citizens exercising his right to burn that flag in protest.

Mind, the votes certainly weren't unanimous and there are officials and citizens who argued against these measures, and these should be commended. But the result paints Pahrump in sad, frightened, insular and pathetic colours.

And this after the town was portrayed in such a charming light that there are calls for the Pahrump of "Nevada Day" to be turned into a series.

I'd love it if Sorkin now followed up on "Nevada Day" in a future episode based on this sad development. Maybe John Goodman's Judge Bebe can blast the Town Board in the same way that the Bartlet West Wing fired broadsides at the "third way" Clinton administration. Yes, you campaign in poetry (and make TV shows in the same idealised fashion) and govern in prose, but this is legislating in bile.

Navarrette sums it up best in a way that even someone who's not American can applaud:

At moments like this, I barely recognize my own country. Americans confronted slavery, the Great Depression, the Third Reich, and racial injustice here at home. Now some of us tremble at the sight of a piece of cloth. How sad. We're a bigger people than that. Even if some of us, now and then, tend to forget it.

Random comments:

• Jessica Simpson - not sure who she is (though I've heard the name), but she's got to be a good sport to let herself be made fun of like that. I assume of course that all appearances by real people - even those just in dialogue - are cleared first.
  
• Rick eschews responsibility for the script format stuff-up ... unlike his much more admirable stand in "The West Coast Delay". Even before the revelation that he and Ron were hiding something I didn't consider this inconsistent characterisation. The stakes weren't as high this time around, so the threshold of being forced to cross into altruism wasn't reached.
  
• We hear about the show falling flat, but don't see it ... maybe Sorkin was afraid we wouldn't be able to tell the difference between the jokes that are supposed to be funny and those that aren't?
  
• "And I returned that call." Hmm... is there a hint of Jordan/Danny frisson in the air? Later: Yup.
  
• Harriet's nude shot. What is this, Enterprise?
  
• But ... wow. It actually has story relevance! Not (quite) gratuitous.
  
• The discussion around Harriet's dilemna this week (doing a lingerie layout even though the magazine just wants to fetishise her faith) was less polemical than the discussions we've seen to date, and more interesting. I like how the Simon and Tom take for granted that there's nothing hypocritical per se about a devout Christian posing in a girlie magazine, just worry about the repercussions of it on their friend.
  
• Matt's concern that the Peripheral Vision Man show would reflect badly on him (and only quite incidentally the show) seemed more egotistical than anything else, regardless of how accurately he assessed its quality. He made the right decision in the end.
  
• I expected the "option period" of the title to refer to the pickup of Studio 60 itself, but no, the show wasn't quite that self-referential ... this time. Though the bit about a guaranteed 13 episodes might qualify.
  
• Didn't expect Ricky and Ron to leave so quickly though ... have they gone off to Mandyville? If so, at least they got an on-screen exit.
  
• The writing staff walking out because of a demanding new (or in this case, old) guy, leaving the new guy with an inexperienced staff is a callback to season four of The West Wing when the same thing happened to Will Bailey. Expect Matt to put Darius and Lucy in football sweaters and get their names mixed up.
  
• Similarly, the need to introduce budget cuts mirrored an arc in Sports Night, though the resolution was a lot faster and more pat.
  
• Hmmm ... 6% of the pattern budget equates to 15 FTEs! This is one expensive show! Of course, each of the "Big Three" get paid as much as 15 others, so ...
  
• There are a lot of mirrors scattered around the studio, including the vending machine. Sure, it could be because there's a need to have mirrors around (given the constant quick-changes going on), but I suspect they're just there to make the shot compositions more interesting. Twice this episode we saw one character reflected in a mirror while talking to someone else.
  
• "This is both good and profitable. You know how this confuses me." A catchphrase for this show, and Sorkin's career generally.
  
• Product placements this episode in dialogue: Nokia (twice). Adidas. Universal Pictures (part of the NBC Group). Apple (thrice, twice via iPod brand). Gibson Guitars (thrice). Final Draft. Sony (twice). Samsung (twice). Not counting Fox, which I'll accept for reasons of verisimilitude, seeing it's a competitor of NBC.
  
• Trek reference this episode: "Vulcan mind meld mojo." Heh. Cute, but obvious. Next time, throw in Cardassians again - does much more for your SF geek cred. Cause that's important, right?
  

On the plus side, we finally get to see someone other than the Doctor and Rose, excuse me, Jack and Gwen, do something, with new layers added to Owen, the rambunctious ... now what is it that he does again in the team? Ah, wikipedia says he's the medic. I think it's been to the show's detriment that none of the supporting cast have made any impact so far. On the other hand, it's only episode three, so maybe some patience is in order.

Random comments mostly jotted down while the episode was in progress:

• Was Gwen possessed or just stupid when she pressed the button on the alien device? And then she has the gall to warn Jack about doing the same?? But of course, we needed to get into the story, and this was faster than an injection of cordrazine.
  
• The old man (Flanagan) unfolds his story terribly quickly and at great length; again the need for speed driving some contrivances.
  
• As expected - Gwen is developing boyfriend troubles as a result of her involvement with Torchwood. He seems a terribly nice guy though. He'd have to be to increase the emotional stakes once Gwen (inevitably?) hooks up with Captain Jack.
  
• Terribly convenient that all the apparitions have their full name pinned on them or called out. Once again, contrived.
  
• More (blatant) Jack/Gwen sexual tension buildup. Guns make her hot? What is this, a John Woo fantasy? Next week: decon gel.
  
• Though I like that as a cop she doesn't know how to shoot a gun. Guess it's the difference between British and American police.
  
• Russell T Davies, as I've mentioned, takes his cues from Buffy/Angel, and like Joss Whedon he's better at emotion than plot. (And while this episode wasn't written by him, I'm sure his guiding and rewrite hand is all over every script.) So the sequence where Gwen uses the alien device to recall happier moments at home made an impact, especially when abutted against the gun training scene with Jack.
  
• Is it just me or is John Barrowman turning into Harry Connick Jr?
  
• Owen is affected by his run-in with the "ghosts" - is he going to do something stupid? He takes a swig from the bottle. Of course he is.
  
• Of course, if this was an American show he would have brought a gun with him. And just confronting Morgan rather than doing violence upon him shows some restraint by the writer and the character.
  
• Funky chase music after the intense confrontation with Morgan. Not sure if the segue worked. Abrupt changes of tone can work, but in this case I think we would have been better staying with Owen's mood for a bit longer. (Especially if his anger would figure in the climax, which it did.)
  
• Bernie is terrified of being killed out in the street. So he goes running out into the street. Uhuh.
  
• Hmm. I thought that there was going to be a big mis-lead and that someone else would turn out to be the rapist/killer. The clues were there: that we never actually saw the murder, just the lead-up to it, and that Owen cut Bernie off when he started to talk about the man he saw with the girl under the bridge. But I was wrong there.
  
• Morgan deliberately runs into Gwen's knife? Why???? Oh, "He wanted to die." I don't know. Terribly convenient and not convincing. The ending felt contrived to pull off a final twist and make some statement about fate or something.
  
• Was the guy in the suit (looks up wikipedia again: Ianto Jones) missing for most of the episode, or was he just a total non-entity??

Torchwood's gotten off to a fairly confident start, but so far it's not got its hooks into me. Maybe because there's something a bit "teehee" about the language/sex/violence ("Ooowaar, we can say 'fuck', we can show a guy wanking"). Or maybe because I'm too conscious of the parallels to Davies' Doctor Who (mysterious and dashing leading man - check, developing emotional attachment to pretty female Earthling - check) and Whedon's Buffy/Angel to think of it as its own entity yet. We'll see how it develops.

And take advantage of your ensemble, will you?

But while the plot concerned the sex-driven alien in the body of the young Caryn, and while our viewpoint character was again Gwen, the story was actually about Captain Jack. A mystery even to his team mates, a man with cut off from humanity (and a no-doubt-to-be-revealed obsession with a cut off hand), someone with an intense need to reconnect with others, though he may not admit it, perhaps even to himself. "Day One" planted the seeds of a Gwen/Jack relationship, though I didn't expect it to develop to kissage so soon, even the relatively chaste peck we got.

On a related theme, it appears another series (season?) long arc will deal with Gwen's own ability to stay connected with her former life: her police workmates, her boyfriend, probably her family given Davies' pattern of introducing family members of the star's companions.

The supporting cast has yet to be developed beyond some rudimentary characterisation, though I'm sure they'll each get their spot in the sun eventually.

Plotting-wise, Davies again introduced a gimmick early in the episode to make one point, then brought it back to figure in a twist at during the climax. Last week it was the distortion field, this week the containment field. He obviously learned the lesson of Chekhov's gun on the wall.

Cardiff ("why always Cardiff?" as a friend asked) continues to provide some interesting overhead angles (show off that helicopter budget!) and the preponderance of Welsh accents are a point of difference.

PS: I thought the names for the first two episodes were incongruous. "Day One" sounds like a better name for a pilot, and "Everything Changes" implies a story in progress. Of course, the names make sense within their context, but it still threw me a little.

Loved Baltar's "hours days weeks months, months" line. Had me chortling for the rest of that scene.

Also loved the soundtrack on the baseship (as I do much of BSG's music) - it worked better at establishing the alien, alienating mood than the sometimes too-arty direction.

Was that a new CGI model of the baseship? This one looked cleaner, more mechanical than I remember them.

We learn more about the specifics of Cylon physiology in this episode than we've done in two and a bit years: "projecting", Hybrids, clues as to the last five models. And finally the question of "Is Baltar a Cylon?" is raised explicitly. I know there's been plenty of evidence to the contrary since, but that's been my theory ever since the mini-series.

A Cylon virus ... echoes of the Founder virus from Deep Space 9?

I didn't think Baltar's psychological state was pushed far enough for his actions on the base ship (strangling the brunette ... Six?) to seem believable. It felt more like a contrived dramatic moment.

Both Tigh and Thrace were deeply traumatised by the events on New Caprica, but in Starbuck's case it was the promise of life and love that unsettled her. In Tigh's case, it was the betrayal and death of his love, so their respective responses to Adama's talking-to made good story-sense. So did Starbuck's rejection of Kasey earlier in the episode; she's always had difficulty opening up emotionally - prone to respond by lashing out rather than closing up - so her action was very much in character.

Athena. Cute.

Fat Lee got back to Ripped Lee faster than I expected. But I guess quite a few weeks may have passed since last episode. Or viewer tolerance for a flabby sex symbol would only stretch so far.

The ending was very abrupt. Almost as if "Torn", like "Exodus", was an episode cut in two.

So I just installed two plugins:

• Jay Allen's Comment Challenge plugin
  
• Solid Wall of Code's AutoBan
  

Comment Challenge appears to do exactly what's required with minimal fuss.

Movable Type needs trackback whitelists for precisely the reasons Erik J. Barzeski explains in the linked blog entry. In the meantime, I'm going to try to use .htaccess whitelists with AutoBan (along with some tweaking of the OneHourMaxPings and OneDayMaxPings values in the mt-config.cgi file) to achieve the same result. Hopefully this will make intrasite trackbacking easier.

Bill Willingham's prose, as ever, approaches charming but never quite gets past some awkward phrasing. My problems weren't with the prose itself however.

The first tale - "The Fencing Lesson" - tells of Snow White's marriage to Prince Charming and is also a murder mystery. But the murders are never much of a mystery; who-dun-it is all very obvious. John Bolton's art is typically alluring - he's always drawn beautiful women going back to the Marada the She-Wolf days.

Mark Buckingham has always been an artistic chameleon as his bravura run on Miracleman demonstrated, and "The Christmas Pies" shows off his charm (perhaps his most prevailing trait) at its most gorgeous. Appealingly water-coloured like children's book illustrations but with exquisitely nuanced expressions when called for, as in the last panel of the second-last page. "I live to serve" indeed. The story, starring the foxy Reynard, again contains a twist of sorts, but one that is neither surprising nor pointed.

James Jean finally gets a chance to delve beneath the covers in "A Frog's Eye View", a short foray into Flycatcher, the Frog Prince's backstory. It should be touching, so tragic is the fate that befalls him, but instead it's merely awkward. The plot suffers from improbabilities which could have been covered up quite easily: they're not huge plot holes but they're enough to distract. For instance, as prince of the land he wait until the invaders are literally storming the castle before deciding to do something about it - but the fact that they're so close comes as a total surprise, which is at odds with the (mostly) conventional view of warfare presented in Fables. It's not like they teleported past the bastions. Later, he wanders his kingdom addle-minded, but is apparently entirely unrecognised. I think the fact that we never get a chance to get inside his head, that the fable is ostensibly told by someone (ie Snow White) who never experienced the events first-hand, fatally throttles the emotion and dilutes the impact. The art, in detailed in greys and browns, is more than suitably evocative however.

"The Runt", Bigby Wolf's story is also conventionally told, but somewhat more interesting than the others, probably because Bigby himself was always such an intriguing, mysterious character. More-than-adequate art is by Mark Wheatley, whom I don't recall encountering since the days of Epic Illustrated and the memorable Mars (which he created in association with Marc Hempel).

The three-page "A Mother's Love" (art by Derek Kirk Kim, whom I'm unfamiliar with, to my detriment based on this short sample) is a cute reversal on the enchanted prince story, but again somewhat implausible - and I'm not just talking about the name of the protagonist, a rabbit called Thunderfoot. The fact that any hare he encounters flees from his fell beast form (you'll know what I mean when you read it) doesn't make sense given how all manner of man and beast, including former enemies and mass-murderers, mingle in Fabletown.

"Diaspora" is a longer story starring Snow White and Rose Red in a sequel of sorts to Hansel and Gretel. I liked it best of the ten because of the memorable way the witch Frau Totenkinder (German speakers know what's up) is introduced. Also, I have to like any postmodern fairy tale that contains the phrase "Into the woods". And I liked the art by Tara McPherson, which has a retro/modern sheen similar to a lot of James Jean's covers for the series.

"The Witch's Tale" (a story within the Snow White/Rose Red story within the Snow White story ... shades of Sandman's "World's End"?) - with art by Esao Andrews - like "A Frog's Eye View" also contains all manner of foul deeds, but because they're perpetrated by the witch, rather than being inflicted on her, the objective, removed narration works better than in Ambrose's tale. Still, I would have liked the story to have focussed more intensely on some of the events in Totenkinder's life, rather than rushing through them panel-by-panel. Willingham's Totenkinder isn't as cheerfully amoral as his witch Thessaly (whom he inherited from Neil Gaiman in an entertaining Sandman Presents some years back), but is potentially just as fascinating. Many of the witches from various fairy tales are woven into the one figure, just at least three charming princes were in the series' main arc.

Brian Bolland's piece "What You Wish For" features the most conventionally comic-booky art, and (like Glenn Fabry's Destruction story in Endless Nights) thus appears the most visually incongruous, though of course, Bolland is as accomplished as ever. The story however, at two pages, is entirely inconsequential.

The final piece, exploring King Cole's backstory (with Jill Thompson's art taking on a water-coloury finish not unlike Mark Buckingham's, and looking grand for it), also just peters on and peters out. It's not unengaging and Cole is presented in an admirable light, but ultimately "Fair Division" - like every other instalment in 1001 Nights of Snowfall - is less of a story and more of a fragment. It stops at the very panel when things get really interesting.

Willingham only occasionally returns to "A Most Troublesome Woman" - there's no progression to speak of in Snow White's tale of incarceration between the chapters: it's just a framing device and nothing more. The ending also is just a retread of the Scheherazade story with no new twist or insight.

I like Fables a lot, though I certainly wouldn't elevate it to the league of Sandman as some others have done. But 1001 Nights of Snowfall was a letdown. Willingham, I think, is better at writing sprawling, drawn-out tales than the 2 to 30-odd page snippets we get. The problem, I think, is that things mostly just happen to the characters who rarely are forced to make dramatically interesting choices, and the narratives fail to effectively build to climaxes - emotional or otherwise. The stories should be gems, but they're merely pebbles ... or bricks.

I hate so say it, but if you're going to get 1001 Nights of Snowfall, then get it for the same reason you get Playboy: for the pictures. Art-wise, there's not a single disappointment in the volume. Story-wise, the opposite is true.

PS: Just did a trawl of net reviews and - wow - am I in the minority or what?! Normally I'm much more in line with the comic book consensus. Not in this case though.

"Everything Changes" was a decent - though not outstanding - episode which served its purpose: establish the major characters and tone of the show. Random comments:

• Torchwood it appears will have a generally more adult feel compared to Doctor Who, and I'm not just talking about the swearing and gore. I trust there will be an absolute dearth of farting aliens in this series.
  
• It's cool that while this adult oriented show is differentiated from its progenitor by the aforementioned language and blood, it's not because we see guy-on-guy kissing or bisexual characters, both of which have already been-there, done-that on the more kidly Doctor Who under Russell T Davies' tenure.
  
• The reaction of Gwen (?) and the spearcarrier to the alien (Weevil?) was both nice and cliched. Of course we know it's an alien and undoubtedly dangerous, but it seems right somehow that an ordinary person would think it's a guy in a mask, even in a world invaded by aliens and Cybermen. That said, the fate of the spearcarrier was telegraphed so far in advance Edison would bow his head in shame.
  
• It didn't make sense to me that a policewoman, after having witnessed such a bloody murder first-hand, would just walk away from the crime scene.
  
• Tracking down Torchwood via pizza was cute, but the fact that they were onto her all along was better.
  
• Hello? They told you they've got a computer hacker working for them. And you write down all your notes in Microsoft Word? Silly. But, then, you also thought the alien was a guy in a mask, so I shouldn't complain about consistent characterisation.
  
• We find out more about Captain Jack. I'm not sure if the cause of his special abilities was the events we saw in past seasons of Doctor Who or if it's part of a backstory that we haven't yet seen. Would have to rewatch the relevant Doctor Who episodes.
  
• Working for Torchwood can have its effect on you. The team obviously isn't all moral rectitude. Hopefully this is something that will be explored beyond the pilot.
  

"Your side hates my side because you think we think you're stupid, and my side hates your side because we think you're stupid."

Sorkin's gotten a lot of good mileage out of making fun of his characters' self-satisfaction and it's always fun to see intelligent conservative voices take them down a notch or three. (Though John Goodman isn't anywhere near as cute as Ainsley Hayes.)

Part I, like so often before, opens with a great teaser. There were a lot of laughs before the credits. John Goodman immediately establishes himself as an imposing (but lovable) public servant - recreating his Glen Allen Walken arc, sans suit and dog, in about five minutes.

Pahrump is a funny name.

Tom's incarceration ended predictably, but sooner than expected, half-way through Part II, as if the plotters of this episode (David Handelman & Cinque Henderson) didn't know what to do with the threads Mark McKinney left dangling from Part I. Also predictable was the resolution with the Taos (the Chinese business partner and his daughter) though Jack's rant in defence of Jordan and the network was nice. I like Steven Weber's character a whole lot more than I expected to from his portrayal in the pilot. He has his own principles, wit and humour. Steven Weber, like Matt Perry, knows how to extract both the funny and the edgy from his role.

The scenes back in LA didn't work quite as well. A half-hearted debate on gay marriage consumed a lot of screentime and furthered the Harriet/Matt UST. I don't have a problem at all with serious issues being highlighted in a show about a sketch comedy (and in fact feel it adds depth), but suspect that Sorkin and his team are suffering under the weight of past successes. If there had never been such an animal as The West Wing I'm sure that critics would be falling over themselves praising a series that embraced the topical via the entree of a satirical show. But after having tackled the issues head-on in the corridors of the White House, Studio 60's political forays seem light-weight and arbitrary in comparison.

"How is your marriage affected by the marriage of the gay couple two doors down?" asks Matt. Harriet doesn't answer, possibly signalling the point at which Sorkin believes resistance two gay marriage stops being about values and starts being about prejudice, but I would have liked to have seen Harriet respond with some substantive arguments (which must exist somewhere), because intelligent discourse is always interesting. Concluding with "I don't know" seemed like a bit of a cop-out.

Incidentally, there's something touchingly naive about Jordon's concern that someone's career could be ruined because they're homophobic.

The "gay street toughs" (as Matt wryly describes them) worked. They were antagonists that didn't conform to the extremist Hollywood homosexual serial killer stereotype, but neither did Sorkin shy away from having them act unpleasantly and, later, pettily. No signs of political correctness here. And one of them, I'm surprised to learn from imdb, was played by my second favourite Vorta, Christopher Shea.

The Jesus Christ sketch contained the by-now-expected Sorkin proselytism, but also had some good jabs. I liked "Jesus", saying about his Father: "Get him."

I swore I could hear the cadences of Jed Bartlet in Wilson White's questions about the viola early in Part I, but in subsequent scenes (such as the ones with Jordan) Ed Asner finds his own presence.

The bits with the Lucy (the British writer) and her romantic problems were cute and funny, but didn't add to the thrust of the episode. Ditto for the bits with Darius, the black writer hired last episode.

Did I see a former joint chief of staff as a studio security guard? (Come to think of it, he's been in previous episodes as well.) How the mighty have fallen ....

Not as funny or as touching or as tightly written as "The Wrap Party", and not really successfully fleshed out to 90 minutes, but still very entertaining.

After much speculation following a steady ratings decline, NBC a few days ago announced that it had picked up Studio 60 for a full season, citing:

Studio 60 has consistently delivered some of the highest audience concentrations among all primetime network series in such key upscale categories as adults 18-49 living in homes with $75,000-plus and $100,000-plus incomes and in homes where the head of household has four or more years of college.